


everyone deserves cookies

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Needs Cookies (Good Omens), M/M, Plotless Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: Upon noticing Crowley's slender body, Aziraphale suddenly feels responsible to feed the demon.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	everyone deserves cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartoffangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartoffangirl/gifts).



> **Disclaimer & Note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by the BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
> 

>   * The author does not take any material profit by writing this fanfiction.
> 
> 


Upon noticing Crowley's slender body, Aziraphale suddenly feels responsible to feed the demon. He knows, logically demon and angel do not require food to stay healthy or in shape because they technically aren't human, so human basic law doesn't apply to them. But still. It's like deep primordial urge that he can't help to have.

His memory flashbacks, when Gabriel noticing his slight weight gain. The Archangel didn't say anything, he just commented, "You looks bigger", which would bother anyone else—but Aziraphale knows Gabriel and his words do not bother him any more. Plus, in Aziraphale's opinion, Gabriel's concept of what was appropriate or inappropriate is always weird. He never takes the Archangel's words seriously. Aziraphale isn't getting bigger, he is getting softer. Semantic matters.

Crowley is not that dependable to food, like Aziraphale. Ever since they were both stationed on Earth, Aziraphale is probably the sole reason people see Crowley in the restaurant. Crowley doesn't dislike food, but Crowley doesn't particularly look for meals either. He knows Aziraphale enjoys eating, so he tags along. Besides, there is always the beverages he comes to love in every lunch and dinner. Coffee, wine, scotch, you name it.

Crowley always shares his food, telling Aziraphale that he's already full, or it seems that Aziraphale enjoys the dish so much, then Aziraphale should finish his as well, or _I only came here for the wine not the clams and shrimps_. Crowley doesn't eat a lot. He nibbles his cake, takes a slice of his steak, but that's all. Never finishing a whole meal course. Maybe that's why he looks like a walking stick from afar.

A very attractive walking stick, but still.

"Should I cook something for him?" Aziraphale thinks idly to himself, as he watches Crowley taking off in his Bentley after dinner. Again, not even a delicious Italian set course interested the demon.

And the idea keeps bugging him.

The very next day, he finds himself, nose buried deep in thick book about classical recipes. But nothing seems delightful, seems fitting enough for Crowley to eat. Nothing screams, _Crowley will love this!_ Not even a tiny whisper. These delicious foods? Aziraphale is drooling already, but Crowley will probably just glance at them and deposit them on Aziraphale's plate, saying: _You should savour these, I enjoy the wine more._

"Mummy, will you bake me cookies?"

Aziraphale's ears perk at that. He sees a little girl with her mother in the corner of his shop. He always has soft spot for children. The said mother is holding a leathered bible (second edition, very rare), and apparently too absorbed in her reading, that she doesn't hear her daughter.

"Mummmyyy..."

"Yes, honey?"

"Me and Julia are going to have tea party, will you make us cookies like the last time? Mr. Parrot and Mrs. Barbie really enjoy them."

The mother looks down at her daughter and smiles. "Yes, of course. Raisin?"

The girl scrunches her nose and yucks loudly. "Peanut! Not raisin!"

The mother laughs. "Alright, alright. But you have to help, okay?"

"I love baking!"

And just like that, Aziraphale does two impossible things that afternoon. One, he lets the mother buy the second edition of the Bible in _very, very_ , very affordable price.

And two, he asks her phone number.

*

"What's that?" Crowley peering over his glasses.

"Gift," Aziraphale says. "For you."

"Me?"

Aziraphale chuckles nervously. "Well, not really, I mean—"

Crowley snatches the tartan tin from his hand, then he blinks when he sees what's in it. "Cookies? You give me cookies?"

Aziraphale turns his head, embarrassed. "I just thought, you need to eat more. And Penelope suggests that the cookies will work like magic."

"Penelope?"

"She's a little girl that I met in shop previous day. Her mother helps me with the recipe. Karen was very nice woman. She shows me how to bake. I've never baked in my life. And it was so much fun! I think—" Aziraphale stops when he realised Crowley doesn't seem like he's listening. He still stares at the tin box in his hands.

Aziraphale starts to think that what he's doing is bad idea. "It must be weird, I will take it back—"

Crowley hisses. Aziraphale steps back.

"You can't, it's mine and it will stay in my car. Who knows if I suddenly crave for food while driving?"

Aziraphale blinks. Crowley coughs for no reason. Maybe flu season will soon arrive. He looks bit steamed up, with apparent blushes on his face. It's a bit chilly, after all. Aziraphale gets another urge to bundle the demon in wools. _Sweater or scarf?_

"Don't make that face." Aziraphale doesn't know what kind of face that he makes. But it makes Crowley averts his gaze.

"Crowley—"

"C'mon, the opera starts in fifteen minutes, we can't be late." Crowley steadies himself behind the wheel after he puts the tartan box in the back seat. "Get in, angel."

Aziraphale sits next to Crowley. He glances at the demon, and yes, that's such a red face. Aziraphale worries again, he should call Karen as soon as possible for knitting tips. He can't let Crowley catch a cold.

_Wait, isn't demon supposed to be immune to all diseases, including flu? Then, what is it about Crowley's flushed face?_

**• fin •**

**Author's Note:**

> Another spontaneous writing for Atsui. Late post.
> 
> Need some fluffs to cheer myself, so I edit it and publish it. Kinda narcissistic, but it helps making me smile.
> 
> Man, if only the effect is permanent. It would help boosting my ego so much.


End file.
